To Each His Duty (6th in the Vicksburg series)
by PollyVictorian
Summary: The ups and downs of army life.


As reveille sounded, the noise of the bugle found a rival in the string of curses from a young man in one of the Company L shelter tents.

"Dang blast it! Why do we have to have that infernal racket morning, noon and night and all the time in between?"  
>"They've got to wake us up somehow, Tice. It's not that bad – just pretend you're back in school, with the school bell ringing." Private Lancer offered a little philosophy to try to cheer up his disgruntled bunkie.<br>"The school bell was only for going into lessons, or coming out of them. Here it's bugle for getting up, bugle for every meal, bugle for drill, bugle for parade, bugle for bed, bugle for lights out. Then before you know it, it's bugle for reveille and the whole thing starts all over again." Private McRae wasn't going to be cheered up.  
>"Let's be thankful the army hasn't invented some worse sounding instrument than a bugle, then." Scott crawled out of the tent and stretched as he breathed in the early morning air. He felt a certain satisfaction as he heard his bunkie still grumbling inside. It was boarding school Scott had been thinking of, where the school bell did sound for every activity of the day from waking to sleeping in much the same way as the army bugle. For once, there was a part of army routine that a Boston society boy found easier to adjust to than did the young men from the western states.<p>

Scott joined the other soldiers straggling along towards the company sink, the digging of which had been one of the first chores carried out when Company L had arrived at the camp the previous day. There was no luxury of individual outhouses – Scott supposed it was a sign he was getting used to army life when he was regarding an outhouse as a luxury. One thing he knew for sure: when he got back to Boston, there were amenities which he would never take for granted again.

"What's it to be for breakfast, gentlemen – hardtack and sowbelly or sowbelly and hardtack?" Cal asked as he dropped his ration into the frying pan.  
>"We'll have more variety soon, boys," Dan told them. "The quartermaster will be issuing camp rations later this morning. And Sergeant Stevenson says he's going to appoint two men as company cooks."<br>"Cooks!" yelped Cal. "I sure hope I'm busy someplace else when he gives those orders. I didn't join the army to become a chef."  
>"Oh, don't worry, he's going to ask for volunteers," Dan reassured him.<br>"You're joking," Cal shook his head in amazement. "No-one would be crazy enough to volunteer for that job."  
>"That pork's burning, cousin," Tice put in.<br>"I told you I was no chef." Cal jerked the charred sowbelly out of the pan and onto his tin plate.  
>Plain as the fare was, the soldiers ate it down with hearty appetites. They were draining the last of the coffee as a bugle sounded.<br>"First drill. Get moving, men," Dan Cassidy ordered.  
>Scott could almost hear Tice's teeth gritting.<p>

At the end of the drill, Sergeant Stevenson, acting as orderly sergeant, assigned fatigue duties.  
>"Horse detail: Corporal Cassidy, Private Stewart, Private Hardy, Private McRae, Private Lancer."<br>Horse detail! That was something Scott hadn't expected. As an infantry regiment, the 83rd had relatively few horses. There was an artillery unit stationed in the camp but he thought that the artillery men would care for their own animals. It must be the officers' horses they were going to tend. He was smiling as Dan led them to the section of camp they had been told to report to.

From the time he had been big enough to toddle as far as the stables, Scott had dogged the footsteps of the groom in charge of his grandfather's carriage horses. Harlan Garrett had ensured his grandson acquired a gentleman's horsemanship, with lessons at Boston's most prestigious riding academy, but Scott had also learned the practical skills of horse care from the groom, who recognized in the young boy a love of horses equal to his own. The one twinge of regret Scott felt at joining the 83rd was that he hadn't been able to enlist in a cavalry unit. Now it seemed that there was going to be some work, at least, with the animals he loved. He marched along eagerly.

The detail came to a halt. Scott realized to his surprise that it was the artillery sergeant Dan was reporting to.  
>"The shovels are beside the woodpile. The horses are over there." The sergeant pointed to the two horses the Company L detail were to attend to. The horses were dead.<p>

"Are we just going to bury them, Corporal?" asked Rick as the five men picked up the shovels and traipsed toward where their duty lay.  
>"That was the sergeant's order, Private Hardy," Dan replied.<br>"It seems a waste. Back home when a horse dies, we flay the hide and the meat goes for dog food and Mrs Lewis uses the horsehair for cushions."  
>"No time or resources for that here," Dan pointed out. "No use for any of it, either. We don't have any dogs to feed and horsehides are too heavy to carry around from one camp to the next."<br>"And I sure haven't noticed any cushions around, have you?" Tice added. The laugh this remark prompted faded out as they drew near the carcasses.

"Corporal, I think these horses have been dead for a while," said Scott as an odour struck his nostrils.  
>"Yes. I understand that the artillery men have been too busy to dispose of them. It had to wait until the infantry arrived." Dan was tight-lipped as he delivered the official explanation. "Let's just get the job done as fast as we can."<br>Scott set to with his shovel alongside his comrades, doing his best to ignore the stench wafting around them. For once there was no joking and merry chat amongst them; they were all too intent on trying to breathe in as little as possible. At last Corporal Cassidy declared the hole was deep enough and they set about the task of dragging the carcasses into it.

As they lifted the first horse, what had been a bad stench became an overpowering one as the side that had been against the ground for an indeterminate number of days was exposed to the air. Tice dropped his section of the load and fell to his knees at the edge of the hole, making a noise that was unmistakable as he disposed of his breakfast. Scott felt his own stomach turning upside down but hung on grimly. Dan Cassidy was the next to give way, joining Tice in a duet. Rick and Cal were not long in following the example of their superior officer and finally Scott submitted to the inevitable and gave his breakfast a welcome release.  
>"Tie your handkerchiefs over your faces, men," Dan instructed, as he pushed himself to his feet.<br>"We can't be expected to handle these horses when they're in this state, Corporal!" Scott couldn't help voicing the objection.  
>"The job's got to be done, Private Lancer," was Dan's response.<p>

Somehow, the job did get done. Pushing the carcasses along the ground with the shovels, the men managed to get the horses into the hole and shovelled the dirt over them with a speed that surpassed anything the boys had done on their farms back in Indiana. Trudging back to Company L's section of the camp, Tice said,  
>"I'll tell you one thing, I'm not doing any job like that again."<br>"You will if you're ordered to, Private McRae. Orders are orders and we can't be choosy about obeying them." No doubt Corporal Cassidy was intending to sound firm and disciplined, thought Scott, but there was more resignation than authority in his voice – not to mention a lingering greenish tinge in his face.  
>Tice said nothing more but Scott was not surprised when he excused himself and slipped away from the group a little further on. He knew that look of thoughtful determination that sometimes came onto his friend's face and wondered what Tice was going to come up with.<p>

The soldiers of the "horse detail" were sitting beside the fire, getting some coffee into their sorrowfully-treated stomachs, when Tice rejoined them and pulled Scott aside.  
>"Come on," he said, "I've found something out." Scott swallowed the last of his coffee and went with his friend. Tice led the way to where Sergeant Stevenson was seated in front of his shelter tent, making out some lists. He saluted so smartly that Scott was surprised it didn't make the sergeant suspicious.<br>"Yes, Private McRae?"  
>"Private Lancer and I wish to volunteer as the company cooks, sir." Sergeant Stevenson looked at Tice through narrowed eyes and Scott realized he'd done the sergeant an injustice. The NCO was suspicious, alright. However, he only said,<br>"Accepted. Collect the company rations from the quartermaster and commence duty immediately."  
>"Yes, sir." Tice and Scott both saluted. Sergeant Stevenson returned the salute and resumed his work but as he and Tice turned to leave, Scott thought he saw… no, he must have been imagining it. Sergeant Stevenson laughing?<p>

Scott had suppressed his initial reaction when Tice had made his announcement to Sergeant Stevenson, sure that there would be something in army regulations against one private strangling another in the presence of a superior officer, but as they headed for the quartermaster's tent, he turned on his companion.  
>"What the devil made you do that? Don't we get enough work loaded on us, without volunteering for more? And why did you drag me into it?"<p>

"You'll see. You probably would have been assigned to it anyway, once I'd volunteered; they usually put bunkies onto the same duty. It looks better on your record if you volunteer, that's why I took you along. But don't worry – you'll thank me for it presently. Now, let's get these rations."  
>Scott followed along, realizing it was too late to argue anyway; the deed was done. But he couldn't for the life of him see how Tice had done him any sort of favor.<p>

Their first dinner as company cooks was easy. The quartermaster had supplied not only some fresh beef but soft bread as well. That alone was treat enough to make sure of happy troops and Scott enjoyed the meal as much as his comrades. The only drawback was some teasing from Cal but even that was aimed mainly at Tice.  
>"Aunt Janet and Lottie will be able to sit back and take it easy once you get home, cousin," he said. "You'll be taking over in the kitchen, I suppose. And say, since you'll be used to cooking for so many, you could send over the meals for my Ma as well."<br>Tice didn't rise to his cousin's baiting. In fact, he seemed to grow more complacent as Cal's jokes continued. Scott felt his curiosity mounting.

The meal was finished and the bugle blew. The company fell into line to receive orders for the afternoon fatigue.  
>"Not you, Private Lancer," Sergeant Stevenson said as Scott was stepping into line with the others. "Company cooks are excused from fatigue duty."<br>"Told you, didn't I?" Tice's smile could only be described as smug. "No more horse detail for you and me, Scott."  
>Cal's jaw had dropped. He glared at Tice.<br>"Why didn't you…?"  
>"Sorry, Cal, but you were so sure you didn't want to be a cook, I didn't think of suggesting it to you," Tice spoke sincerely but it seemed to Scott that Cal's teasing had been avenged.<p>

As the rest of the company marched off, Scott stepped up to Sergeant Stevenson.  
>"Sir, how is Sergeant Latham? Is there any news?" he asked.<br>Sergeant Stevenson looked grave.  
>"Dr Vincent thinks it's typhus. He'll know for sure in the next day or two. There's one good thing: Sergeant Latham will have the best of nursing. Mrs Balfour arrived this morning. She's working in the hospital. She'll make sure all the sick men get proper care."<br>"Mrs Balfour must be a remarkable woman, to come and stay in an army camp when she's under no compulsion to do so," said Scott.  
>"She seems to consider it a sort of duty. There's work that needs to be done and she's able to do it, so she feels that she ought to be here. The army should be thankful for women like her." The sergeant resumed his usual brisk tone. "You'd best be about your own duty, Private. After all, you and Private McRae have managed to get the easy job, haven't you?"<br>"Yes, sir." Scott saluted and headed toward the tent where he and Tice had stored the company rations. His immediate duty was certainly a simple one – prepare supper for Company L. Nothing hard about that. Yet, something about the way the sergeant had made the point about the easy job was disturbing. That and the memory of Sergeant Stevenson laughing.


End file.
